Hungry
by LadySwish17
Summary: Part One - Sam has trouble getting to sleep. Part Two - Sam continues going through his change. Part Three - Sam's condition worsens.
1. Part 1

Sam lie in bed, trying to concentrate on falling asleep. But there were too many things keeping him awake. For one, the sound of his brother's light snoring. Normally, he could ignore it, but for some reason, it was seemed to reverberate against the walls of his head. In fact, everything seemed louder to Sam. He could swear he heard the sounds of the highway, even though it was more than five miles away from the motel he and Dean were holed up in. He could hear insects scurrying from one end of the room to the other, hear something outside that was slowly making its' way through the bushes across the parking lot, even hear the thump thump of his brother's heartbeat. It all was driving him insane.

But there was something else that was keeping him awake. His stomach had been gnawing at him all day, even though he had packed away two super-sized burgers and fries from a fast food joint at dinner. He had even eaten two large bags of chips and here he was three hours later, hungry as ever. To make matters worse, there was a scent in the air that was just heavenly to him. Smelling of…meat.

Sam gulped down the saliva that kept building up in his mouth. He thought it was just his imagination, but Sam could swear the smell was coming from Dean. Sam slid out of bed and crawled on all fours towards his brother's bed, stopping at the foot of the bed and worked his way up, inhaling deeply. He could feel Dean's body heat radiating off every inch of his body, which only made the smell that much better to Sam. There was something changing in Sam, he could feel it. All he wanted to do was sink his teeth into Dean, ripping his flesh off and swallowing it whole. The bloodier, the better. So many images of Sam digging his nails - claws - into Dean's back and sinking his teeth in…

"Ahh!" Dean jumped up and swung his knife, cutting Sam across the cheek. He turned on the light, cursing as he was temporarily blinded. He searched the room for what had bitten him on the thigh, but only saw Sam sitting against a dresser, holding his bloody cheek. "Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean checked out his slightly bleeding wounds and glanced back at his brother, his grip on his knife tightening. "I asked you a question!"

"Dean, I-" Sam fought back the sudden images of him leaping up and ripping Dean's throat out. He shook his head and felt tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. I-I'm just so…hungry."

"Hungry?" Dean stared at his brother incredulously. "What the f…you ate two burgers, fries, and two big bags of chips! And now you want to turn me into sushi?" Dean got out of bed and picked up his duffel bag from the floor, dropping it onto his bed to look for his first aid kit. "Dammit!" The alcohol stung like hell. Dean glared at Sam, but saw how much blood was on his face. "Come here," he sighed as he finished up bandaging himself.

Sam slowly crawled over to his brother, wincing when the alcohol hit his cheek. As he sat there, he wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of the antiseptics Dean used, but he noticed the smell of meat on Dean hadn't gone completely away. Sam closed his eyes and inhaled, the gnawing hunger in his stomach growing larger. He set a hand on Dean's thigh, neither noticing how pointed Sam's nails were becoming.

The End.


	2. Part 2

Sam sat in the bathtub, dumping more and more ice into the already cold water. He should have been frozen, possibly near hypothermia and yet, he was still hot. Blazing. His skin felt as if he were sitting in liquid fire instead of ice water. He had been this way for a few days now: his nails growing faster, sharper; his incisors becoming sharp as well. His senses kept getting clearer. While he and Dean were hunting a ghost, Sam kept getting distracted by the myriad of scents, sights, and sounds - of a little kid eating strawberry ice cream, a woman wearing a Calvin Klein knockoff, a man jogging while listening to a rock station - all of which scared and exhilarated Sam.

He knew he couldn't tell Dean. After he bit him on the thigh, Dean wasn't exactly seeing eye-to-eye with Sam. So Sam stayed quiet, added this to the list of things he stopped telling Dean. Sound of scrapping feet against the ground caught his attention. Dean was back. Sam dumped the rest of the ice in the tub and hid the bag behind the toilet.

"Sammy?" Sam heard Dean drop his keys on the dresser, heard him shuffle to the small table near the window and set down the bags of fast food, the smell of the cooked meat sending shivers down Sam's spine and a shudder from his mouth. He sunk lower into the water, his body refusing to cool off. Another bag of ice was needed, but he didn't trust himself to act normally.

"Sammy?" Dean knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm here." Sam grabbed an ice cube and bit into it, shattering it and letting the pieces dribble down his chin. He ran his tongue over his teeth, carefully going along the length of his cuspid tooth - his fang - and raised his hand, staring at the sharpness of his nails. He closed his eyes and sunk lower into the water, letting it swallow his head.

A few moments later, he came splashing up, his lungs screaming for air. The water warm again, his body temperature was scorching again after that temporary reprieve. He pulled the plug and stepped out, wrapping his towel around him. When he stepped in front of the mirror, a gasp left his lips. His eyes, only they weren't his eyes. They were still brown, only more yellowish in the iris, giving him an animal look. "Perfect look with these teeth," he snorted.

"Yo Sammy! Burger's getting cold, man." Dean licked the ketchup off his fingers. "Quit jerkin' it and let's go!"

"I'll be out in a minute!" Sam hollered back. He glanced back at his reflection in the mirror, the yellow shimmering like golden topaz under the fluorescent light. He could hide his hands and teeth, but Dean would notice his eyes. He wasn't that dumb. His stomach rumbled, begging to be fed.

God, he hoped Dean wouldn't notice.

The End.


	3. Part 3

It was getting worse. Sam sunk deeper into the tub, allowing the water to rise up to his nose. The cold water wasn't helping him anymore, his skin was still burning up and he could only stay in the tub for so long before Dean was knocking and asking if he were all right and telling him he really needed to get laid instead of jerking off in the bathroom. There was a part of Sam that wished it were that simple. There were times when he was fine, but other times, it hurt to even move.

He sat up and tugged on the drain to let some water escape before replacing it and turning on the full blast of the cold water. He held his hand under the flow, feeling more heat than he did cold. Disgusted, he switched it off and pulled the plug, standing and snatching a towel from the rack. One step out the tub and pain shot up his leg, keeling him over and bringing him down to the floor curled in a ball. A second later, the pain split up, running through every nerve, every bone in his body, making his body rigid and every movement feel like his skin was splitting and peeling from his body. The notion to just grab chunks of his flesh, grab it and pull it right off sounded really good to him. But the pain kept him from moving.

Sam bit his lower lip, trying to hold back the scream that was building up in the back of his throat, but fear kept it back. Fear that Dean would burst through the door and find him on the floor in pain. Fear that one look at Sam and he'd realize what was wrong with him, what he was turning into. Sam didn't need to look in the mirror to know what his eyes looked like - they had been turning yellowish in color ever since…

"Oh God!" Sam bit his lip again - wincing when he found his teeth sharpened - and grunted, reaching up to grab hold of the cabinet knob, but stopped when he caught sight of his arm and hand. Thick hair had sprouted up to his fingertips, his nails pointed and sharp. There was a wet snapping sound going on inside him followed by more pain as his legs rearranged themselves. He rolled over onto his stomach as his knees snapped and jutted out other way round, his muscles stretching-straining-flexing under his skin.

A knock at the door made him slam his hand against the tiled floor as a low growl settled in his throat.

"Sam, you all right in there?" There was genuine concern in Dean's voice, Sam could hear it. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he noticed Dean's scent wafting from under the door. The smell of meat, of food. It smelled so good to him that he licked his lips, his body shivering in greedy anticipation.

"Sam? What's going on in there?"

Sam watched as the door knob turned slowly, waiting.

The End.

© 2006


End file.
